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This is the final instalment of the BIS Holmboe symphonic
cycle, as significant an achievement in its way as that of his near contemporary
Rubbra and the Chandos cycle of his symphonies. Written over a fourteen-year
period, each of three movements, each compact, each nevertheless occupies
a discrete sound world and one of quite breathtaking scoring. Holmboe’s
resources were intact up until the end of his long life and this disc
both reflects the compositional traits that animated his writing and also
the life force that coursed throughout his life undimmed by old age.

Symphony No 11 opens with a gentle evolutionary feeling
– the flute flecks the canvas, the strong trumpet motif that follows is
invigorating and rhythmically quirky. The strings float with elfin beauty
and the flute wanders discursively amongst the patina Holmboe evokes.
More punchy animated writing drives the argument forward before it winds
down like the uncoiling of some huge spring, at the end of which, whimsically,
the flute has the last delicate word. The second movement begins in frowningly
unsettled fashion but relaxes into flute led delicacy once more before
vigorously assertive bisecting brass cut into the score and propels the
typically tightly bound argument onwards. The finale, an Andante, opens
in a parched, seemingly arid way. Once more though cor anglais and dappled
violins nourish the aspect, an open air directness gathering strength
as the string swirls and brass storming lead onwards to a strange, once
more unsettled winding down into inconclusiveness.

No 12 dates from 1988 and was commissioned to mark Holmboe’s
80th birthday. As so often it opens in strong, striving fashion.
With harp and woodwind fully engaged early on Holmboe introduces a strangely
antique air before strong percussion interjections lead to renewed orchestral
attacks; lots of short motifs lead to a decisive three-note close. The
slow movement is withdrawn and mysterious – lower string pizzicati and
tympani taps – until the arrival once more of more active and rhythmic
material. A sense of stealth haunts the introduction to the last movement;
a pregnant unease loiters as well and tentativeness before suddenly breaking
out into newly rude health, strong without vociferousness, powerfully
forward moving, and, characteristically Holmboe, a searing solo trumpet
and percussive momentum lead the orchestra to a triumphant conclusion
– journey’s end.

Holmboe’s last symphonic statement, the Thirteenth, comes
from 1994, two years before his death. Dedicated to Owain Arwel Hughes
there is no let up in Holmboe’s engagement with his material, no easeful
falling away, no transcendent gentility, no compromises with Time or supposed
frailty. This is echt-Holmboe to the very end. By now those characteristics
that animate his music are obvious – and he begins the symphony in media
res, as so often, with powerfully interjectory brass entries. Strong timpani
rounds push the argument still further; from the word go there is plenty
of activity for the woodwind and sectionally as well, musicians constantly
kept on their mettle. At 4.50 the strings launch a solo cello and a kind
of strange dislocating stasis develops – the solo is romantic but oddly
cool and the movement ends once more unresolved. The second movement opens
quietly and apparently benignly but disruptive material quickly intrudes
until the calmo section, with its chirpy wind writing, tries to
divert the increasingly oppressive atmosphere; unsuccessfully because
waves of attacks from timpani, strings and brass lend a horribly poisonedair to the close of the movement. The finale returns to the thematic
material of the first movement. By 3.20 the strings are slithering up
and down the scale and a stern rather Russian phrase is introduced, integrated
by the violins. Dynamic material gradually winds down, inexorably, to
a single flute that ends the Holmboe canon with typically ambiguous unease.

Performances of drama and skill have lit this cycle from
within. Production values of the highest have accorded it the documentation,
the presence it deserves. Holmboe’s is a major voice in the symphonic
canon of the last two thirds of the twentieth century. His individual
voice never compromised, never veered from its language of tonality, never
acquiesced in pictorial simplicities. He was a voice of our time and we
honour his memory by listening to his music.

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